


The Windows Light

by ghostly_words



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gilbert is a good man, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sort Of, he'll be fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostly_words/pseuds/ghostly_words
Summary: The Hunter is tired, of all the pain in Yharnam. Gilbert is tired of being alone, wondering when he'll loose his mind. They talk through a window, hoping to see the sunrise of another day.





	1. The Night

Drip, drip, dripping against the stone, a trail of red blooms. A ragged breath passes by cold lips, whisps seen in the cold air. The temperature curled it’s cruel hands around her, filling the marrow of her bones with ice. The sound of a howl pierced the air; another beast slaughtered.

There. She found it finally. The soft purple glow of a lantern, mingling with the flickering orange light from the window next to it. Smiling as she could at the sight of the thin, bony, messengers, she slumped against the wall in front of the window. Shaking, her hand gripped the bar tightly, feeling the bite of the cold metal through the leather glove. “Gilbert. Are you there?”

Stillness hummed through the air. She hoped he would be there, but it was a dwindling hope. The horrors she saw, the mysteries unraveling and tangling together adding only more questions to her mind. And the night was late. The temptation of sleep pulled at her eyes, she could imagine that many already slumbered, hiding away in attics and cellars and behind veils of incense and iron.

Pale golden light shone behind her eyelids. “Kayden? Is that you lass?” The familiar rasp of Gilberts’ voice, the lit of his accent, reverberated in the air.

Exhaling, relief touched her, a sense of calm and peace protecting her from the night. Smiling, Kayden shifted, wincing from the shock of pain in her leg, her forehead thudding against the bar she held. “It’s me.” From behind the window, she heard him muffle a cough then a sigh. She grinned, a passing thought posing an opportunity. “Were you expecting someone else? Have many Hunter’s drop by for a chat?” For tired as she was, there was a teasing lit to her voice.

He hadn’t been expecting that, the thud as the shadow of her hat moved against his window bars, nor the joke. Laughing quietly, he stopped when a cough threatened to break his breathing. “Ah, no, just one persistent lass. Bit of a shame really, but I don’t think many want to stay in the cold while talking, but...” Trailing off, he shook his head and took a sip of tea before clearing his throat. “Well, either way. I didn’t think you’d stop by again.” She had been gone long, and truthfully, he feared the worse.

A huff of laughter left her. It was good to hear him laugh, she had never heard it before, but she liked it. “A good thing it’s not a terribly cold night then, even warm in some places,” she told him. A crunch behind her took her gaze away from the deep green curtain fluttering in the breeze, trapped behind the bars. Even though her eyes saw nothing, the familiar weight of her gun in her hand was a reassuring one. “It’s been a long night,” she spoke softly, trying in vain to keep the weary weight of her task from being heard in her voice. “I, well, truthfully, I wanted someone to talk to, or listen to. And I enjoyed our previous conversations, so... here I am.” There were others she could have found, everyone in Oeden Chapel, still safe from the beasts. But, she didn’t want to hear their voices, nor the tears of Edda, or the rage from Adella. It was all too much, there was no peace found in the sanctuary.

‘Not cold, that’s an easy lie,’ he thought, resting his forehead against the cold glass window. He could only hope that they would both survive till morning. Even though he was certain that he wouldn’t last the night, he wished he could, just to talk with her more. “I don’t have much to tell lass.” His words were softly spoken, like her own. Once he would have been able to tell her crystal clear stories of Ireland, or of sailing. But, living in Yharnam for 6 years, it felt like most of those memories were a blur now, their edges fading, the details out of focus.

“That’s all right,” she kept her eyes closed, even as she gently rested her hand against the window, the curtains fluttering after the movement. She needed to heal the wounds on her left side, but taking the old blood felt too dangerous now. “I am fluent in silence too.” Cracking a smile at her own words, she slumped heavily against the wall beside her and the bar in her hand.

Chuckling, Gilbert quickly turned away from the window, a cough racking his body. Heaving a breath, his body shook for a moment, tea nearly spinning over. Taking a moment to settle his breathing, he rested his head against the window once more, relishing in the coolness against his skin. “I do have one story, from sailing. I...well the details of it are a little fuzzy, but it’s one of those classic stories of bewitching sea creatures, mermaids and sirens and the like.” Scratching his throat, Gilbert turned his wheelchair, picking a rough leather journal up beside his table. There was half written stories, a beginning to his own, even lines of poetry that he had been inspired to write when Kayden had mentioned her own writing. In the very back, there was a lullaby, one from his childhood.

Opening her eyes, she blinked rapidly to clear her blurred vision. “I would love to hear. I...may fall asleep.” Always their time was short, for she either had to hunt, to search for truth, or she fell into the dream, finding moments of respite and relief from the constant pain of the hunt.

“Lass.” While he did not want to cut their already brief time, Gilbert could hear the tired pain in her voice. And from the way her voice had fallen deeper, he knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell, unable to even stand anymore, “I suppose you’ll just have to stop by again to hear it. After you rest and take care of that injury you have.”

Huffing a laugh, she pushed herself away from his window. “Heh, should have known you’d notice. Thank you Gilbert. I’ll stop by before this long night ends, I promise.” Walking away from the window, she stumbled to the lantern, the cool purple mist enveloping her as she passed into the dream.

Watching as her shadow passed by the window, Gilbert settled back in her wheelchair. “Be safe Kayden. I do hope to see you come morning.”


	2. The Morning

Never before had he been more relieved to see sunlight cast an orange glow through his living room. Yharnam had survived another night, and yet, there was a little curl of worry that crept into his mind as he slowly and carefully walked down the stairs (it was a miracle he was able to still make the stairs to fall asleep in his bed) to prepare a small breakfast.

Gilbert went through his morning, feeling steady enough to shave for the first time in what felt like months. The large bottle on the bedside table sparked the memory, one full of relief and worry. He hoped Kayden survived the night. He hoped that one day he would be able to thank her in some tangible way for giving him a cure. Or at the very least, it was something that was slowing the progression of the disease and beasthood.

For the first time in months, he opened the window and pulled the dark green curtains aside, wincing slightly as the morning sunlight hit his eyes. Looking down at the table, he smiled fondly, brushing his hand over the cover of his journal. He had worked on some of the stories he had written down, fleshing them out to make them longer and more entertaining, but he carefully had marked the original pieces he had written so that he would always be able to remember where he began.

The cold fall air bit into him, a shuddering cough following suit. Yharnam, even when relief was found in the city, was always tinged with cruelty. Leaving the curtains pulled open, he closed the window before easing himself into his wheelchair. The thing did come in handy, even if it was a reminder of everything he had lost since coming to the city of the damned.

But, perhaps he shouldn’t call it that anymore. There were still beasts as far as he could tell, but he could hear children outside. There were people gathering, and speaking to each other with little suspicion. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen that happen. In fact, Gilbert didn’t know if there had ever been a day where he had seen the city look more like it was alive than a tomb waiting to be filled by suspicious people.

A knock at the door startled him. When was the last time he had visitors? It was surprising, though he couldn’t help his own suspicion as he looked through the peephole. The matronly woman on the other side looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her in his memory. Opening the door, he was caught off guard when he looked down and saw a young girl helping her mother hold a basket.

“We won’t be long,” the elderly woman began as she held out the basket for him to take, “But, we heard from a hunter that you had helped her though the long night. She helped us, and since we cannot find her…. Well, we’d like to give you this as thanks for what you did for her.”

“Mr…” The young girl looked up at him with a piercing gaze and hint of a smile. He could see worry in her eyes. It didn’t seem right for one so young to look so wise. “If you do see the nice lady again, please let her know about our thanks.”

Bewildered, Gilbert took the basket. He nearly dropped it when the tendril of fear arose once more, crushing his throat with worry. Ignoring it as best he could, Gilbert nodded his head. “Thank you for this.” Setting the basket on the small table beside his door, he kneeled down and smiled at the young girl. “Don’t you worry lass. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for her, and I’ll tell her ‘bout your gift if I get the chance.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, the young girl nodded and turned away before he asked, “I’ll need your names though, for I fear I don’t know them.”

A brief, but genuine, chuckle left the young girl's mother. “I am Viola, and my daughter is Edda. The lass helped us get to Oeden Chapel where we would be safe, safer than at home at least.”

“All right then. Mrs. Viola, Ms. Edda, if I see Kayden, I’ll be sure to pass your message onto her.” With the relieved smiles in his memory, he watched them walk away before closing his door. Moving the basket to his kitchen, he noticed the blood free liquor, as well as the bandages and medicine hidden amongst the food. But, he had only just begun to heal with the antidote Kayden had found him, and his energy was still fleeting at best. Settling down in his wheelchair, the sunlight warmed his very bones.

It was a knock that woke him. Not one from the door, but the window.

A cautious smile took his features. Standing, he walked to the window and smiled at the woman standing outside. Her face had been obscured by the hat and scarf she wore while on the hunt, but he recognized her nonetheless. And she had been the only one to stop by his window.

Chuckling, he opened the window. “Well look who it is. I have a door you know, lass.” They had survived the long night. He had a cure now, or something akin to one. The teasing felt both natural and welcome when he saw her laugh at the joke.

“Oh, that thing? I’ve never knocked on it before, I don’t see why I should start now.” With a smile that felt odd and instinctive at the same time, Kayden felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. It was a long night indeed. But the sun had risen. And she saw fallen comrades and innocents (a loose use of the word to be sure) walking through the streets. For a brief moment, she wondered if the nightmare of Yharnam was truly over. Her head still hurt, and there wouldn’t be any time soon she forgot what she saw, but for now, she could breathe easier.

“Aye, I had a feeling that’d be your answer. But, there’s something I have for you, and I can’t pass it through the window.” Motioning her to go to the door, he walked, a slight shake to his legs, to open the door and let her in. Pointing to the basket, he smiled. “Mrs. Viola and her daughter brought that for you.”

Unwrapping the basket, the sight of fresh fruit was a miracle. Turning to face Gilbert she smiled. “Care to share some of this with me? I can’t eat it all by myself. And perhaps you can tell me that story finally, the one you were going to share during the long night. What do you think of that?”

“Aye lass. I think I find this an agreeable plan.” Helping her spread the bounty of food over his table, Gilbert hoped there would be more days like this, and fewer nights of the hunt.


End file.
